The World From My Porch
by Linxcat
Summary: Dill has returned to Maycomb after nine years. Scout already has someone chasing her. Will she choose Dill, her childhood love, who still makes her go weak at the knees, and move to New York, or will she choose her dashing, rich, suitor?
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

I watched the world from my porch, eyes drifting from the lines of my book to the neighbourhood as I surveyed Maycomb on that lazy Sunday afternoon.

Normally, I would be so engrossed in my book, that little things like what the neighbours were up to and who was walking down the street would not distract me, but it was hot and I was sleepy. Concentrating on a book was far too much effort for two o clock in the afternoon.

Sighing, I placed my book down on my lap, choosing to watch the road instead. Miss Maudie was outside, as usual, tending to her azaleas. It amazed me that a woman of her age had enough energy to work all day in the garden.

A handsome black car caught my eye as it snaked down the road. It was going slowly, as if looking for something. I admired it, remembering blearily that my Aunt Alexandra had once arrived in a similar vehicle nearly ten years ago. Ten years! Had it really been that long?

The car stopped a few houses along from mine, and a man climbed out. From what I could see, he was tall, slim and wearing a suit the colour of charcoal. He intrigued me – not many businessmen came to Maycomb, as not many people could afford to pay them. I wondered what his reason for being here was; there was not much for a city man to take interest of in such a small town.

He paused at each house, lifting his hat and greeting the owners politely. As he drew closer, I saw his face; it was slightly rounder than an average man's, but pleasantly so. His eyes were a twinkling sky-blue and a sandy-blond cowlick curled in the middle of his forehead, his smile easygoing and friendly. I decided that he was good-looking, and hoped fervently that he would stop at my house – only out of curiosity, of course, as I was dying to know what he was doing here.

He approached Miss Maudie's house, lowered his hat, and called to bent figure in the garden,

"Good-day, ma'am!"

His voice was clear and deep, and every word he spoke sounded sincere. She straightened and at once composed her face into a smile for the handsome stranger, "Good-day yourself, sir. What brings you to Maycomb?"

They both lowered their voices as they continued the conversation, so I lost track of it. At one point, the man glanced up in my direction, catching my eye. Embarrassed at being caught staring, I dove for my book and tried to pretend that I was immersed in it the whole time.

I felt my heart beating faster as I saw him sauntering down the pavement to my house over the top of the pages. I tried to concentrate on the words, ignoring the stranger as he coughed politely.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." He called out to me. I lowered the book, acting as if I hadn't even noticed him before. I smiled.

"Good afternoon, sir." I called back. He leant on my garden fence, and I fiddled with my dress hem.

"So, ah, what brings you to Maycomb, sir?" I asked, pretending that I hadn't heard Miss Maudie ask the same question and that I wasn't dying to hear the answer myself. He must be pretty tired of hearing it now, I thought. In fact, it was the opposite, as his face lit up in a grin.

"I'm lookin' for someone – I wonder if you've heard of her – her name's Jean-Louise Finch, and she used to live round hereabouts."

Jean-Louise Finch? My cheeks flushed. That was me! What did this handsome stranger want to do with _me_? I chuckled self-consciously.

"Well, you've found her," I placed my book down, "I'm Jean-Louise Finch."

His face lit up in surprise and delight, before he gasped, "Gee whizz, Scout! You ain't half changed!"

Scout? I hadn't been called that in years! Suddenly, realisation flooded me. His cheeky smile, bright blue eyes, sandy-blond hair... I exclaimed something very unladylike.

"Dill! That ain't you, is it?"

"Sure is!"

I jumped up from my chair and ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck. It amused me that the boy I used to beat up was now so tall that I had to stand on my tiptoes to hug him.

A few squeaks of "I missed you!" later, I pulled back from the embrace, scowling.

"Charles Baker Harris, you ain't written me in over three months!" I howled, "And you ain't even so much'a visited in nine whole years!"

He winced slightly, "I'm sorry, Scout, you got my letters, though? I near damn wrote you a whole essay last time!"

I had to admit, he normally wrote regularly. The months after his last summer in Maycomb, when I was little over eight years old, his letters were the highlight of my week. Every Saturday I would rush to the mailbox and wait there till the mailman reached our house.

Nine years later, we still wrote, though after the first year we found little to tell of one week and began to write monthly. I had every one of Dill's letters tucked up in a trunk in my room. Time to time, when I missed my childhood particularly, I would take them out and look over them.

"You know why I haven't visited – I told you; I couldn't come summers no more cuz Ma moved us to Boston, so I just wrote to y'all. I tell you, I stopped writin' to Jem years ago, but I never stopped writin' to you! And I haven't had a chance recently cuz I moved to New York when I got a business proposition 'bout my new book. It's sold good, it has, so I figured I'd come down to Maycomb to visit you!"

I stared up at my friend for a second, before congratulating him heartily. As I lead him into the house, something disturbing occurred to me; the boy that I had considered my closest friend through childhood, had grown up. He'd changed – and so had I – but the Charles Baker Harris that I knew didn't use phrases like _business proposition_ and certainly wasn't an author, he was seven and a midget and proud of the fact that he could read, squatting in Miss Rachel's collard patch.

What had happened to my Dill?


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Jem arrived a few hours later, after a very excited call from me. I'd pushed the disconcerting thoughts to the back of my mind and dived for the phone, yelling happily to Jem that he better come over, for I had a big surprise for him.

It was only when my brother arrived in his stylish black car, fresh out of university, that I remembered he was no longer to be addressed as 'Jem'. He was Mister Finch now, a grown up man.

I supposed Dill was a grown man too, but when I'd asked in my best hostess voice whether he, Mister Harris, would like any tea, he'd burst out laughing and asked since when had he been called Mister Harris? Dill would do just fine.

I'd jumped up the moment I'd heard the car draw up outside and rushed out.

"Come on in, Jem, you won't believe your eyes!" I laughed, embracing him then tugging him down the path. He raised his eyebrows, linking arms with me.

"Golly, Jean-Louise, what's the big fuss?" he asked. I'd almost forgotten that he had a Yankee accent now, as university in NYC had taught him how to speak like 'proper folk'. First time he came home, Atticus and I teased him like anything about it, calling him a city boy.

Then he looked up towards the house, and his jaw dropped. There was Dill standing in the doorway, grinning.

Jem recognised him a lot quicker than me – but I guess he wasn't as romantic, seeing not a handsome stranger, but a surprise that was on his little sister's porch.

"Doo-ee, Dill Harris!" he yelled, "What are you wearin'?"

"Wearin'?" Dill looked down, "A shirt, what's it look like?"

Jem laughed and shook his head, "Never thought I'd live to Dill Harris in a suit!"

"Well," Dill grinned broadly, "You've only gone an' done it. Here I am!"

Then they approached each other, and did what I liked to call a 'man-hug'; they smiled and patted each other on the shoulder, acting like simply throwing their arms around each other would be far too feminine. It amused me when men did that. I laughed, linked arms with them both and lead them inside.

I made us all tea and invited them outside onto the porch. It was warm and sunny, and we chatted pleasantly, catching up on one another's news

Jem told us of his escapades at university, the law course he was taking. He only had one more year, and then he was a qualified lawyer. He was helping out at a court-house – running errands for the judge and getting connections – and hoped that soon he would be able to present himself to be hired. He had made himself a personal pledge to be as good and honest and fair as Atticus had been.

Dill, on the other hand, had quit school fairly early. He'd got a steady job in Boston, whilst writing and making himself known to the local theatre group. It wasn't long before he joined them in playing across the county, and a few months later his first book was published.

I had not much to tell compared to my two companions. I told them of how I'd finished school, then Atticus and Aunt Alexandra had moved to get closer to town, and, well, here I was.

My concentration drifted as Jem and Dill talked about jobs and finance. I found myself remembering the last time we were all together, when we were little more than children, spending our summers playing 'Boo Radley' in the garden.

My eyes flickered between the two men who I had once considered my best friends. Jem had grown tall like Atticus, soft brown hair clipped neatly at the base of his neck, a scattering of light stubble across his upper lip. It amused me to see him with facial hair, and I remembered how excited he had been about growing up.

Dill, on the other hand, apart from shooting up a few feet and being now as skinny as a beanpole, hadn't changed much. His hair was still blond, perhaps a little more golden than the white it had been before, but still fluffy and messy. His face was less chubby and he had a rounded chin. Looking closely, I observed the early signs of facial hair on him too. I tried to imagine Dill with a beard and nearly guffawed out loud, saving myself quickly by taking a large gulp of tea and choking on it.

I watched them as they talked; Jem sat back calmly, hands resting in his lap – a familiar trait of Atticus's that he had no doubt inherited – and eyes sparkling with interest. Dill, however, was sat on the edge of his seat, legs apart, gesturing animatedly with his hands as he spoke loudly.

"-and then, you wouldn't believe what he said..."

"What did he say?"

"He said, and I swear, 'You, Mr Harris, need a pay rise...'"

I leant my elbows on the table, ignoring my inner etiquette in favour of comfort and wound a lock of jet black hair around my finger.

We had all changed in these nine years – that was only to be expected. Jem had become a lawyer, Dill was an actor and author of a fantasy book which he'd promised to get me a copy of, and I was a lady. Despite how content we were with our places now, I found myself longing for the days of overalls and tree houses. The days where manners didn't matter and we only had to be polite to adults, where every dispute could be ended with a fist-fight and everyone would be happy by bedtime, and where Dill would deliberately distract Jem with some toy or book just so that he could sneak away and kiss me.

Suddenly, a wonderful idea occurred to me. I sat up straight and smoothed my skirt.

"Hey Jem, you able to stay the night?"


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

The moment Jem's eyes swivelled to his watch, I knew that the magical atmosphere had disappeared and I felt a pang of nostalgia; we were adults once more. He winced.

"Sorry Jean-Louise, I really ought'a be goin'..." he rose and nodded to Dill.

"Nice meeting you again, Dill, how long you stayin' round hereabouts for?"

Dill grinned at me, "'S'long as Miss Jean-Louise here will keep me, I guess."

I blushed a little and smiled. "As long as you can stay, Dill." I told him.

"I'll come round again soon," Jem hugged me briefly, nodded to Dill, and turned to go back into the house. He stopped on the stairs, however, then turned back and raised his eyebrows meaningfully at me.

I knew from experience that the look meant that he wanted to talk to me alone. Thankfully, Dill hadn't noticed; he was too busy eying up the last biscuit (I guess he hadn't changed _that_ much).

"Dill, could you be a darlin' and clear up these cups?" I asked, smiling sweetly. He snickered and muttered 'darlin'' in amusement, but nevertheless began to clear away. As I followed Jem inside, I added, "And don't even think about eatin' that last biscuit!"

Jem lead me through the house and outside to the front yard, glanced quickly around to check there was no one in the street, before exhaling deeply.

"Jean-Louise, you be careful, you hear me?"

"What you mean, 'careful'?"

He shook his head, "You're sharing a house with a young man, Jean..."

My cheeks flushed and I scowled at him, "_Jem!_ I'm not stupid – and you know Dill would never-"

"Nooo!" Jem's own face grew red, "I don't mean _that_! We grew up with Dill, Jean, I know he wouldn't ever...anyways, that's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean?" I asked, glancing surreptitiously towards the living room where Dill probably was. I hoped he wasn't eavesdropping.

"I mean, careful that you don't spread it round. What will people think, you sharing a house with another man when you're engaged...?"

"I'm not engaged!" I hissed, blushing again, "Aunty's just got her heart set on him askin' me, s'all."

"And so's the whole town, Jean, it just ain't happened yet. You two are actin' like you're engaged too."

"No we're not," I looked down at my feet, a little embarrassed, "He ain't even kissed me."

"God Almighty, Jean!" Jem groaned and rolled his eyes, "What do you think this is; a romance novel? He's gonna ask sooner or later – he's downright smitten with you."

"And your point?" I grumbled, a little miffed at having my favourite genre of book snubbed so readily and love-life summed up so quickly. He sighed and levelled my gaze.

"When are you gonna tell Dill, Scout?" he asked softly.

I felt my knees weaken. Jem hadn't called me Scout in years.

"What?"

"Dill, Scout, what are you gonna say to him?"

"I'll just tell him, I guess," I shuffled awkwardly, "why should it make a difference?"

Jem sighed and sat down on the garden swing, motioning for me to join him.

"Scout, you and Dill were the closer two when we were kids, tell me you noticed that?"

"I did,"

"Right. And he proposed to you?"

"That...that was only..." my cheeks flushed in realisation and I clapped a hand to my mouth. Jem nodded.

"I thought it was only a game that he would grow out of. He stopped writing to me after a year, but he never stopped sending you letters. He picked to stay with you, not me. Seems, Jean-Louise, that he really does love you."

We both sat in silence for a few minutes, me trying to digest what I had just heard and Jem respecting my thoughts. Then Jem looked up.

"I guess I better go, Dill might start wondering what we're up to."

"Jem," I caught his arm as he stood, "Jem, Dill was always promising to come back and marry me when he got enough money. He's just published a book, you don't think...?"

Jem shrugged and grinned, "Do whatever you think is right, Jean." He saluted, winking, "I'm no good at this sort of thing."

I watched as he climbed into his car, waved to me, and stood in the garden until the automobile vanished around a corner.

Slowly, I turned and walked back inside. Dill was sat in Atticus's old armchair, a book in his hands. He looked up as I walked in.

"What did Jem want to talk about?"

"What?" I said quickly. Too quickly.

"Gawsh, Scout, I grew up with Jem too-"

"It's Jean-Louise, please."

"What?"

I looked down at my shoes, "No one calls me Scout anymore."

He looked at me for a few seconds, before restarting, "I grew up with Jem too, _Jean-Louise_, you think I don't understand his looks?"

I thought fast, picking the first thing that popped into my head that sounded remotely Jem-ish.

"Finance. Jem...manages my finances for me."

His eyebrows shot up, "Oh, if that's what you're worried about, Scout, I can help-"

"No, no," I replied quickly. What kind of hole had I dug myself into this time? "It – its fine,"

"Okay," he said, and we slipped into a kind of awkward silence. I strode over to the kitchen, desperate to find something to break the terrible quiet.

"What would you like for supper?"


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

We fought against the awkwardness throughout the meal. I had learnt from an early age, and growing up in a poor town, that there was an unwritten rule about conversation; don't mention money when people don't have any. Dill had money, but it still felt wrong to talk about it.

I chased my food around the plate with my fork, my appetite dwindling like a fire doused with water. Dill still had a bottomless pit for a stomach and was eating just as quickly – if more politely – than he did as a kid. I admired his gusto, but couldn't put up the pretence for myself.

Having Jem mention my suitor had embarrassed me and unnerved me. I began to think harder about my position.

What if Dill did propose?

Good heavens, then he would expect me to make some sort of decision! I couldn't do that. Despite being what Aunty called an 'accomplished young woman' I simply couldn't break a man's heart.

Anxiously, I worried my cuff with my fingers. Then again, what if Mr Heighson proposed first? Marcus was a very nice man indeed, but something about him made me feel uncomfortable. Perhaps my lack of intimacy with any man my own age since being a child was the source of my strange feelings. Or perhaps I had some kind of sixth sense that had decided that there was something 'dodgy' about Marcus Heighson?

Either way, I had decided long ago that I didn't love him. When Aunty pestered me about our relationship and I told her of my decision, she had merely rolled her eyes.

"You learn to love, Jean-Louise. If you spend a lot of time with a man who loves you, you will begin to like the attention. If you like the attention, you won't want it to stop, therefore you will begin to return his feelings. I didn't love your uncle when we married, but look what happened to us."

When I reminded her that she and uncle lived separately and she hadn't so much as visited him in nearly ten years, she huffed and told me that wasn't the point.

What _was_ the point was that Marcus was a good man, a better man than I gave him credit for, and financially secure enough for us to live comfortably. I didn't matter if I didn't love him because I would be content with what I was given.

Oh, I wondered miserably, why had life suddenly become so complicated?

Dill must have noticed the gloom shining through my face as he stopped eating.

"You alright, Scou- Jean-Louise? Golly that's long; can't I call you something shorter – like JL?"

I giggled, mood lifting slightly, "I'm fine, Dill, and no you _cannot_ call me JL. Jem calls me Jean sometimes."

Dill frowned and rubbed his bristly chin (I still found it strange to see him with facial hair).

"How's about Louie?"

"Over my dead body, Dill."

"Lou?"

"Nuh – uh."

"Hmm..." he paused for a few seconds, and I found myself gazing directly into his eyes. They were peacock blue, round and familiar, with a few flecks of hazel around the edges. They were deep and beautiful, so full of the imagination that I loved, and I found myself getting lost inside them.

"Jeanie."

"What?" I blinked, tearing my gaze from his eyes. He grinned, as if knowing exactly what had distracted me, and repeated it. I debated for a few seconds against the name, before sighing.

"Alright then." I grumbled.

"You don't mind it?"

"It's better than _JL_."

His face lit up. "Awesome." He grinned, showing off his teeth. I wondered if he'd had them whitened in New York. I'd heard they could do that now. I'd never heard him say 'awesome' though. Perhaps it was city slang.

He was leaning forwards in his seat now, elbows resting on the table (if Aunty were there she would have a fit) and head in his palms.

"Jeanie," he repeated, sounding every syllable. I found that I liked it. "Jeeeaaa-niiieee. Jeanie Finch." His voice softened slightly, "My Jeanie."

My stomach did a somersault. I felt my cheeks grow warm and I grasped my hands on top of the table.

_My Jeanie_. He'd said it so tenderly, it was almost a request. I tried to imagine the words coming from Marcus's mouth and found that they didn't fit. It made me feel strange inside, but warm and excited at the same time. Not the way I felt when Marcus tried to be mushy – he'd tried to put his arm around me once and I'd flinched so obviously that he'd been afraid to meet my gaze for a week.

And there was Dill, my childhood fiancé, beaming at me from across the table. I hadn't seen him in nine years but he still managed to make me weak at the knees.

I wondered if this was love, what I was feeling. It certainly wasn't what I felt for Atticus or Jem. In a way I hoped it wasn't, because being with Dill would make things so damn _complicated_. What would Jem think? And Aunty? Atticus, even? I might have to move to New York to live with him. Wouldn't it be so much easier to be a good daughter and marry the man everyone wanted me to?

I had hardly noticed that Dill had gone until I unglazed my eyes and noticed he was not in his seat. I saw too that the plates and cutlery were gone, and realised I could hear the running of tap water.

Dazedly I got up and walked into the kitchen. There he was, tall, broad shouldered, blond, standing at the sink. He'd taken his jacket off earlier and now I could see his lean muscles under the white shirt was wearing. His arms were elbow-deep in bubbly water. It was only then that I realised he was doing the washing up for me. I snapped out of my trance.

"Oh, Dill, you don't have to-"

"No, no,'s the least I can do for your hospitality." He waved me away, turning and flashing me a handsome grin. Once more, my insides flipped. If my stomach got much more action, I was sure I would be sick.

"Thank you." I said softly. There was silence, but it was more comfortable than before.

"Do you remember when we were kids?"

I smiled, "I ain't that old, Dill, I ain't got memory loss yet."

"You remember those games we used to play?"

"Course. Like Boo Radley. D'ya remember that time-"

"Jeanie, what d'ya think of comin' and livin' in New York with me?"

I question made me freeze in my reminiscent spool. I felt my stomach drop into my shoes.

My mind was whirling at the speed of a motor car and yet it seemed that my body hadn't caught up with it yet. I gaped like a fish out of water, finding the wall behind me and leaning on it for support.

"I – uh – I gotta use the bathroom."

The last thing I saw as I fled from the room was the look of disappointed confusion on poor Dill's face.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

_"Hey Scout," _

_It was him. She hugged her knees tighter and frowned into them. _

_"Wadda you want?" she sniffled. _

_"Nothin'." He sat down beside her. "You 'kay?" _

_"Yeah." _

_"You don't look okay. Wassup?" _

_She flicked her bangs from her face, "Dill, I...I just don't..." her mouth closed abruptly like a clam, "I don' wanna talk bout it." she mumbled. _

_There was a pause before, "You upset 'bout me movin'?" _

_"Maybe." _

_"Well I am." _

_"You are?" she shifted round to look at him. He shrugged. _

_"Course. 'M not gonna see you, am I?" _

_She smiled weakly. "We can write." _

_"We already do. It won't make much difference, will it?" _

_"Naw. Guess not." _

_"So why you upset, silly!" Dill jumped up and extended his hand. She blinked up at him in surprise and he laughed. _

_"I've only got a week left! We might as well make the most of it, right?" _

_A slow smile spread across her face. She took his hand and allowed him to pull her up. _

_"Dill – Dill!" she caught his shoulder, "Wait. How are we gonna get married if you're so far away?" _

_"Don't you worry about that," he grinned at her, "I'll find a way." _

_xxxxxxx _

_She slung the bag over her shoulder once more, frowning slightly as, again, it just slipped down her arm. _

_"Want me to carry that for you?" _

_She turned at the voice – and then scowled as she saw its owner. _

_"Go away, Marcus." _

_The boy paused for a few seconds, before speeding up so he could trundle comfortably beside her. _

_"What don't you understand," Scout huffed, annoyed, "The 'go' or the 'away'?" _

_"I understand," he replied, before cocking his head to one side, "Why you so down?" _

_"I'm not." _

_Marcus merely shrugged, pea-green eyes gazing at something Scout couldn't see. Something about them made her feel oddly relaxed. She stared down at her shoes as they moved along the sidewalk. _

_"I miss Dill." _

_"Who?" _

_"He was around a few summers ago," she sighed, "You know, kinda short, blond hair..." _

_"Oh." Was Marcus's reply, "Was he a friend of yours?" _

_"He still is!" Scout snapped, then immediately regretted it, as Marcus jumped back. There was silence for a few minutes. _

_"He promised me he'd marry me when we were older." She said softly, eyes crinkling up dreamily. Her fantasy ended when a snort came from the boy beside her. _

_"Marry you? The Harris kid? He ain't got 'nuff money." _

_"He will one day. He's gonna write a book, get famous, then come get me!" _

_"He won't be able to come get ya, cuz I'm gonna marry ya, Scout." _

_"Oh, you will, will you?" _

_"Yeb'm. Your Auntie's damn near promised ya to me." _

_Scout stared at the boy for a few seconds, before letting out a strangled roar of outrage and storming down the pavement home. _

_xxxxxxx _

_Dear Scout, _

_I'm mighty sorry I haven't written in a while! I know if I were with you right now you'd probably be furious at me! _

_I'm currently revisin' for my end of year tests, so I've been dead busy. Tests in English and math and science. Dead borin', but I hope I'll do well. _

_I miss you every day, Scout. I wish I could come see you, but Ma says I've gotta get the money myself – she just doesn't have enough. So I'm cuttin' back and savin', and maybe soon I could come visit. Maybe this summer. We could go swimmin' and have tea in the garden with Jem just like we used to... _

_xxxxxxx _

_Dear Scout, _

_Sorry 'bout the quality of the paper – where I live ain't exactly a palace, and I gotta provide for myself now! I've got a job and everythin'! _

_I'm workin' as a stagehand for the local theatre. Don't get paid much, but I'm gettin' contacts round the place. I even get to stand in sometimes when actors get sick, so I've gotta make sure I know all the lines. It's great! _

_I'm sorry I haven't written you in a while – been so busy! What with all the learnin' lines and runnin' errands and tryin' to make money...I'm pooped by the time I get home! _

_The other night, I had a little time spare so I wrote ya somethin'. It's not much, but I hope ya like it... _

_xxxxxxx _

_The girl leant against the wall of the building, lips slightly pursed and arms folded in a manner that suggested she was rather bored. Her eyes stared, slightly glazed at the opposite wall, one hand twirling around the frills of her dress (which she hated with a passion). She was so busy looking at the wall that she didn't notice as he approached her. _

_"You wanna dance, Jean-Louise?" _

_Scout blinked and turned to the source of the sound. She scowled. _

_"No thanks, Marcus. I ain't movin'." _

_"You sure? It's the last dance." _

_"'Zactly." She sighed, "Haven't danced all night and don't plan on doin' so now." _

_The boy frowned, "Why, that's mighty sad." He scratched the side of his head. "You scared?" _

_"S-scared?" Scout's head snapped round. She glared at the small boy, "Scared'a what?" _

_"Scared'a treadin' on my feet and makin' a fool'a yourself." _

_Scout huffed, cheeks growing a little red. Truth was, she couldn't dance too well. She was hoping she wouldn't get asked so she could save herself the embarrassment. _

_"No," she mumbled, "Not scared. Just lookin' out for ya feet." _

_Marcus grinned, the dim light making his dark eyes sparkle. _

_"Tell ya what, Scout. You dance with me, an' _I'll_ worry about my feet, 'kay?" _

_Scout felt an odd butterfly sensation in her stomach. She'd always been a tomboy, so the other boys just treated her like one of them. It was strange being treated like a girl for once. _

_"'M'kay then. But don't say I didn't warn you..." _

_xxxxxxx _

_Scout leant back on her elbows, eyes fixed on the dark night sky. _

_"'S a beautiful night, huh?" _

_"Sure is," Scout smiled. Then she shivered, "'S cold though." _

_She felt Marcus move a little closer. "Want my jacket?" _

_"Hmm?" Scout turned to him, cheeks flushing slightly. _

_Marcus was offering her his jacket? This was just like that romance novel she read! But...wait...what had Dill said about romance novels...? _

_"Romance novels? Real life ain't nothin' like romance novels..." _

_She felt a pang of guilt at the thought of Dill, her supposed fiancé. How could she be acting like this around Marcus if Dill was gonna come get her one day? _

_What was she doing?_


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

I pulled my head from the basin, gulping air and pushing strands of hair that had come free out of my face. Drying my face and hands with a towel, I hoped that Dill wouldn't notice how flustered I was.

Thankfully, he didn't. When I returned, we spent the rest of the evening in awkward, if polite, talk about silly things like the weather. He was quiet and stiff, giving calm answers to all my questions and staying as monosyllabic as possible when I tried to coax conversation out of him. He didn't smile once.

He told me that he was tired from the day's travelling, and so I showed him the guest room and wished him a curt goodnight.

The rest of the evening, and well on into early morning, I spent flittering around my room like a trapped moth – to restless to sleep, and yet unable to concentrate on anything.

In the current circumstances, I gathered that perhaps it wasn't diplomatic to mention Marcus. _I'll tell him later_ I told myself.

Dill was still in his strange mood at breakfast, informing me politely that he would be going into town today – and probably tomorrow too.

He left early in the morning and but as I watched the car pull smoothly away from the sidewalk, I didn't feel that sense of relief that I had been hoping for. Instead, I just felt lonely.

Slowly, I made my way around the house, doing the only thing I can do when I'm feeling like this – I clean.

Every dusty surface, every speck of dirt faces the wrath of my duster and cloth. I started in my bedroom, completely blitzing it, doing anything I could to take my mind off this strange ache in my chest. Bookcase. Windowsills. Mantelpieces. All were scrubbed to perfection.

By the time Dill returned that afternoon the house was practically gleaming from head to toe. He actually squinted when he walked in. However, he was still in his strange mood.

We ate dinner and conversed politely, before washing the dishes together. Dill excused himself, as he was tired from his day's work (our 'polite' conversation hadn't stretched as far as what he'd actually been doing, but I assumed it had something to do with his book) and left the room.

Sighing, I returned the dishcloth and sat outside on the back steps. It was a muggy evening but there was a storm in the air. I ran my hands through my hair and buried my face in my hands. This stupid awkwardness was running my nerves ragged and I couldn't cope with it anymore!

How long I sat there on the steps, head in hands, I wasn't sure, but I looked up when I felt raindrops on my shoulders.

I stood up and made my way to a tree in the middle of the yard. I ran my fingers over the bark, carefully searching. At the base of one of the branches were six initials – JF, DH, SF – all carved loopy-like into the wood. Jem had done that during Dill's last summer so we wouldn't ever forget. Not that I could.

I pressed my forehead against my wood, the rain getting heavier, but not caring. Where had those good times gone? Why did we have to grow up and make everything so _complicated_?

"I just want my old Dill back." I groaned, balling my fists up to my eyes.

"You can have the old Dill if I can have the old Scout."

I snapped round. Dill was standing right behind me, wet fringe dripping into his face and the rain making small see-through spots on his white shirt. He was so close that I could hear him breathing, see every eyelash...

To my absolute horror, I burst out crying.

Dill held me to his chest, stroking my back as I sobbed rather uncharacteristically into his shoulder. This was _so_ not me – but every girl has her limit, and I couldn't hold it all inside anymore.

"I meant what I said about comin' with me to New York."

I pulled back – somehow we were sitting on the steps now – and scrubbed furiously at my eyes; not that it made much difference, as it was fairly pouring with rain.

"I'm sorry Dill, but it's just so – so _complicated_..."

"Complicated?" his face creased up in confusion, "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath. Now or never.

"There's...this guy...Marcus. He's been chasin' me..." I quickly added to my rather lame explanation, "Not that he's caught me yet."

Dill's eyebrows were still furrowed. He stared at his hands for a few seconds before,

"Do you love him?"

I'd been expecting this question sooner or later but it still surprised me when it came.

"I..." I gazed up at the sky, raindrops splashing on the end of my nose. "I don't know, Dill. He doesn't make me feel like you do, that's for sure."

Dill smiled at me then – the first honest smile I'd seen all day, and it brought wonderful butterflies to my stomach. We sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the relaxing feeling that came with the lack of awkwardness.

"I guess we better go back in, huh?"

I turned to grin at him.

"Race ya inside!"

"You're on!"


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

I woke the next morning feeling strangely elated and not entirely sure why. It soon became clear to me, however, when Dill sauntered passed me on his way to the kitchen and flashed me a large 'good morning' smile.

"I'm goin' into town today," Dill informed me as he sipped his orange juice at the table, "You said you needed to buy some groceries, you want me to drop ya in?"

I smiled at him over my cup, "Yes please, 'less you wanna eat pasta 'till Tuesday."

The butterflies swiftly returned as he laughed - what was it about his smile? – and beamed warmly at me.

After our quick breakfast, Dill drove us into town in his motorcar. On the way there, he told me what his trips had been about – his editor lives a little way from Maycomb mainstreet. He was visiting regularly to check the progress and how the book was going.

"What's the book about? Can I read it?"

Dill's mouth curled at the corners and he was silent for a few seconds.

"Perhaps...one day."

I thumped him on the arm and he laughed and stuck his tongue out at me.

"Ain't finished yet, is it? Stupid readin' it when it ain't finished."

I protested again, but he merely grinned and informed me that I best get out of the car now, he wasn't stopping again till Mississippi.

My shopping took me back through the town, and, just as I was heading for home, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Jean-Louise? Wasn't 'spectin' to see you out so early."

I spun round, cheeks flushing in surprise.

"Marcus! You made me jump!" I giggled, running a hand absently through my hair. "What're you doin' here?"

"Buyin' a few odds an' ends...just about to head back to my car," he gestured to a sleek black Ford parked beside us. "Care for a ride home? That shoppin' looks mighty heavy."

I shifted the bag around in my hand, toying with the idea, when a thought occurred to me.

What if Dill found out I was with Marcus?

A strange feeling of guilt hit me, although I wasn't sure what I was doing wrong. Dill never forbade me to _talk_ to Marcus. So why did I feel so bad?

"No thank you, Marcus. I was just...headin' over to Atticus's."

His face dropped for a second, then lit up again.

"I'll drop you off! Really, it's no trouble."

"Oh," I smiled brightly, "Um, sure, ok then."

We spent the ride over in comfortable conversation.

"So what brings you into town so early, Jean Louise?"

I fingered my shopping bag, "Dill dropped me off on his way through."

Marcus frowned, "What, that kid that used to come over in the summer?"

"Yeah, he's visitin' for a coupla weeks."

"Right," Marcus had stiffened slightly, "Where's he stayin'?"

I wet my lips, observing my companion cautiously so not to cause a negative reaction from him.

"Um, with me, actually."

"Hmm." Was Marcus's reply, but I thought I saw a muscle twitch in his jaw, "That's nice. Well, here we are."

"Thank you kindly, Marcus." I mumbled, noting the strange emotion behind Marcus's eyes. "See you round."

I watched the car leave, and then turned to start walking home, when I heard a call.

"Jean Louise! You come to visit?"

I laughed as I saw Aunty at the door, and scurried up the path to meet her.

"Aunt Alexandra! How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you. You've grown again, I'm sure! You need to get a new dress, or do you plan on flashin' your ankles at every man you meet?"

"Aunty!" I groaned, rolling my eyes. She gave me a stern look.

"Now, you come inside and we can have some tea. I've got some brewin' right now..."

"Aunt Alexandra, can you read my mind or do you just stand on the porch waitin' for folks to walk past?" I asked as I walked in to the house. I heard Aunty tutting at me as she brought the teapot and two teacups on a tray into the garden. I followed her through and sat carefully down on the chair. Aunt Alexandra was the one who had taught me how to be 'feminine' and told me all about table manners and gracefulness and whole load of other things that I never knew were important.

"So Jean Louise, what has busied you this week?"

I smiled at my Aunt's formalness, "Dill's visitin'. You remember Dill, don't you? Charles Baker Harris?"

"That small child..Rachel's nephew?"

"Yes," I nodded, "That's him. It's awful nice havin' him back."

Aunty frowned at me, "Why's he vistin' you?"

_He's come to whisk me away from this dull life and marry me._

"He's come to show me his new book."

"A book?" Aunty looked surprised, "Well, he seems to have turned out well." Then she smiled, "Speaking of turnin' out well, how're you and Marcus? You know he's sweet on you."

"I met him on my way here," I gazed into my tea, "I really don't know, Aunt Alexandra."

"Well, you'd do good to marry him. He's a good family and plenty of money, plus you could stay here in Maycomb."

_What if I don't want to stay in Maycomb? _

I narrowed my eyes at her, "Aunt, it's not about whether he's _suitable_ or _rich_. I'll marry the man I love, and I'll decide when."

"Hmph," Aunt Alexandra sipped her tea, "I can hardly imagine that Harris boy being able to support you. Writin' is not a stable career, you know. Financial ups and downs are not good for raisin' a family."

"Aunty! Were you listenin' to a word I said?" I slammed my cup down and stood up. "Thank you for the tea, but I'll be goin' now. Good day."

As I hurried home, my mind was reeling. It seemed that I was going to have to make a decision, and soon.

Dill or Marcus?


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

I bade Dill goodbye the next morning, and spent the day quite normally; cleaning and reading. I heard Dill's motorcar pull up around lunchtime, but before he came inside, I heard another noise that brought me rushing to the porch.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Dill and Marcus were standing outside, glowering furiously at each other. I seemed to have missed the beginning of their argument, but by the looks of it, Marcus had followed Dill home and confronted him. I raced outside.

"Dill! Marcus!"

"Jean Louise is _my_ girl!"

Dill spluttered, then laughed, "Oh – _your_ girl is she?"

"Dill!" I screamed, rushing between them, "Marcus! Stop that – stop it now!"

Dill dodged out behind me, glaring furiously,

"You hardly _know_ Jeanie! I grew up with her!"

"Then you left!" Marcus snapped back.

Dill winced, glancing at me,

"I – I had to, my whole family moved...Jeanie understood..."

"She missed you so I took your place!" Marcus was leering now, the malicious expression on his face looking terribly out of place, "I've stepped into your shoes and you're not gettin' 'em back!"

"Boys!" I wailed, but once more I was ignored. 

"You're nothing but a businessman!" Dill darted around me, "Have you ever held her hand – have you ever kissed her?"

"Her Aunt has practically promised her to me!" 

"She promised _herself_ to me!"

"She wants to stay here, in Maycomb! She would do best to marry _me_!"

"She does not love you!" 

"Oh," Marcus rolled his eyes, "And I suppose she loves _you_, does she?"

Dill turned to face me, eyes wide and pleading. Then Marcus was staring at me too. I paled, feeling quite sick; half of the neighbourhood was watching and I had to make a decision right now.

I looked at Dill, then to Marcus, then back at Dill. My face creased up.

"Please," I mumbled, "Stop fightin',"

I wasn't sure what happened next, but suddenly Marcus had Dill pinned to the ground. 

"She's MINE!" he roared, punching Dill repeatedly in the face. 

It seemed that Dill's fighting skills had improved since he was younger, as almost immediately he had flipped Marcus back over on his back and now quite literally had the upper hand. His fist descended quite a few times to Marcus's nose before he was thrown off, Marcus using his extra few inches to take advantage. 

As they scrambled around on the ground I could hear gasps of horror from behind me – but no one stepped in to try and stop them. I screamed at them to stop it, and was ignored once more.

Marcus seemed to be winning – he was taller and had broader shoulders – although prop shifting had given Dill quite a bit of muscle bulk, helping him to hold his own. I think car keys were drawn, as suddenly blood was everywhere. 

I stood watching in horror, feeling every bit the helpless little female...

Wait. Helpless? Since when had I been _helpless_? 

Anger boiled up inside of me as they tussled on the floor like a pair of dogs – they were acting like children! If no one else was going to step in, it was up to me.

"STOP IT!" I shrieked, as Marcus slammed Dill's head into the concrete of the sidewalk. I hauled him up, pushing them apart and glaring furiously at them. "You're actin' like – hey! HEY!"

It seemed that, despite the fact that I was the one they were arguing over, they now had eyes only for each other, both determined to beat the life out of the other.

They were staggering around on their feet now, lashing out when they could. I hitched up my skirts and ran after them, still yelling and trying not to trip in my summer shoes. 

I reached them just as Marcus was winding up to take a punch. It seemed that I had retained something from my years of being an aggressive tomboy, as I instantly knew what to do. I grabbed Marcus's fist in my own and wrenched it violently to the left. He gasped in pain and stumbled back in surprise. Dill seized the moment and moved in, but I stifled his attempts with a sharp shove in the shoulder. 

I stood between them, arms outstretched and hands pushing them apart. I tried hard to ignore the sticky wetness on my fingertips that touched Dill's shirt, unsure whether it was blood or sweat and really not wanting to know. 

"Both of you – STOP IT!" I hissed, "You're embarrassment to me and yourselves – wrestlin' like children!" I paused to look at them both. Marcus looked remorseful but I could still see aggression in Dill's eyes. I glared at him until he dropped his gaze to the pavement. I sighed and crossed my arms, eyes darting between them so that they wouldn't attack each other again. 

"Now, you are both gonna walk away from this fight right now, hear? No winner, no loser so your _manly pride_ won't get hurt." I scowled and stepped back from them, "And as for who I belong to – I think I'll chose that, thank you very much! At the moment it ain't either of you."

Dill lifted his gaze and his gaze met with Marcus's. They stared silently at each other for a second, before Marcus held out his hand to shake. 

Something flickered across Dill's expression – I wasn't sure what it was, but suddenly he'd pulled his fist back. 

Marcus seemed prepared for this, however, as in the split second Dill had hesitated, he jumped in and sent him sprawling. Dill's head smacked the curb and blood spurted.

"_Dill_!" I shrieked in horror, dropping to my knees beside him.

Marcus stared at me, aghast, seemingly shocked at what he had just done. He blinked a few times, before racing off. 


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

With help from Miss Maudie, the only spectator brave enough to step in and help, I managed to haul Dill inside. He was out cold and bleeding profusely from his head, bruises on his shoulders and back and several gashes on his face and arms, as well as a puffy eye. I stripped his shirt and did my best to staunch the blood until the doctor arrived. 

"Good Lord, Jean Louise, was he attacked?" Dr Reynolds exclaimed as I showed him in.

I remembered Marcus's face after he'd punched Dill and shook my head.

"No, it was...an argument. It got somewhat out of control."

Dr Reynolds sewed up the back of Dill's head (I couldn't bear to watch) and prescribed some antibiotics for when Dill woke up.

"Plenty of rest and he'll be right as rain in a week or so. No more than eight of those pills a day. Two with every meal should do fine. He'll have a beauty of a black eye in the mornin'."

He explained where I should bandage up and pointed out to me certain injuries that would need regular cleansing.

"Now, I really must be off – Julie Farthing's due any day now..."

"Thank you doctor," I smiled and showed him out, before returning to the bedroom to continue Dill's mummification.

I'd just lifted his arm and reached for the bandages, when he opened one eye.

"Dr Reynolds gone?" he hissed. I frowned at him.

"Dill! Don't tell me you were awake the whole time?"

Dill grinned, "Not the whole time, just as soon as he washed my face – that water ain't half cold!"

"Hmph," I raised an eyebrow at him, "How's your head?"

Dill felt beneath his hair gingerly and winced. "Nice scar I'll get from these stitches."

I snorted, "You'll have to shave your head 'fore anyone'll see it. Now hold still."

I wound a length of bandage around his arm, careful not to pull it too tightly. I cut the end with some scissors and tied it neatly.

"There. How does that feel?"

"It feels mighty nice with you holdin' my hand like that."

I glanced down and realised that, in an effort to keep his arm still, I was in fact gripping his hand – and quite tightly too. I scowled at his smug face and snatched up the ointment Dr Reynolds had left.

"This may sting." I said, matter-of-factly, before applying it on one of the gashes on his chest. I felt him gasp and stiffen beneath my fingers and I immediately pulled back, concerned.

On his face was a perfect expression of masked pain – until he began sniggering, which kind of ruined it.

"Charles Baker Harris!" I yelled furiously, slapping him on the shoulder. He grinned apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Jeanie, 's just I don't half mind havin' you fuss over me like this. I'd get myself beaten up every day if you would look at me like that once in a while."

I frowned sternly at him, "Still haven't forgiven you for startin' that fight with Marcus. It was stupid an' childish. Don't you even think 'bout doin' it again!"

The cheekiness dropped from Dill's face in a second.

"I was fightin' for you, Jeanie, you know that? You don't wanna marry that stuck up Marcus, do ya?"

I lowered my eyes and tried to concentrate on bandaging Dill's shoulder.

"It would be the right thing to do." I replied softly. I could feel Dill's eyes on me. He pursed his lips.

"What, stay here forever and be a good lil housewife? You told me you wanted to see the world!"

I dropped the roll of gauze, exasperated and confused.

"I don't know, Dill, I just don't know! If I marry Marcus I can stay here in Maycomb with Atticus and Aunty! Aunty thinks I should and Marcus is a good man!"

"But you don't love him." Dill said quietly, catching my hand. Tears formed in my eyes. I wanted to scream!

"I don't know! It's – it's too much! Gah!" I rubbed my eyes with the balls of my hands then set about methodically rolling and cutting strips of bandage. Dill watched me, a thoughtful look on his face. Finally, he said.

"I'm sorry if I'm rushin' you into this." He mumbled as I pressed the white linen gently against his chest. His skin was soft and pink, but I could feel the firm muscles beneath. 

I worked silently and carefully across his chest and shoulders, dabbing away the blood and applying bandages where needed. Finally, I got to his face. He was still watching me.

I picked up an ice pack from the bedside table and touched it to his eye. He winced, but did not draw back.

"It was very brave of you to pick a fight with Marcus. He's at least a head taller than you."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, well I did it for you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Thank you, but don't go gettin' yourself beat up next time, ok?"

There was a strange look on his face now; he wasn't grinning, he was smiling shyly at me.

"Jeanie, has Marcus ever kissed you?"

"Kissed me?" I raised my eyebrows at him, trying to anticipate what he was going to do next. "No, he hasn't." 

"Good." Dill said, leaning in, "Cuz I wouldn't want that jerk's spit in my mouth."


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

As Dill was bedridden for the next few days, it was up to me to run errands generally be active for him. I brought him meals and read with him, even going to visit his editor.

By the end of the week, Dill had taught me how to drive adequately, with him sitting in the passenger seat and grabbing my hand on the clutch every time I made the car stall. I couldn't honestly say I minded the physical attention, as our kiss was still fresh in my mind. Whenever I thought of Marcus, that horrified expression on his face, I felt a guilty pang. I blamed my sudden attachment to Dill on the excess of time I was spending with him, not on the fact that perhaps deciding who I liked more was a little easier than I had first imagined.

Besides, I thought, how would I ever break the news to Aunty if I decided to marry Dill? She would throw a fit and try to convince Atticus to disown me. Not that he ever would, but it wouldn't surprise me if she tried.

Writing is not a stable career for raising a family. I found it strange to try and imagine myself starting a family with Dill. I'm sure he would make a fantastic father, just the thought of settling down with someone as ambitious as him...it was like going sailing with a rock climber. Strange. But not entirely wrong, somehow.

And the weirdest thing? It was easier to imagine me marrying Marcus. He was more of a husband type – calm, clever, reliable...I could imagine us settling down and growing old together. And I wasn't sure if I liked it or not.

"Third." Dill reminded me sharply and I quickly changed gears. Trust the daydreamer to pull my head from the clouds!

I successfully reached town in one piece, thoroughly glad that Dill had arranged to meet his editor a little closer to home, as Mississippi was an age away, especially for an inexperienced driver.

I helped Dill hobble inside the small cafe and was instructed to find something to do. He was still insisting that I could not read his book until he had finished it, so I could not sit in on the meeting.

I walked out onto the veranda of the café and had to shield my eyes from the midmorning sun. The whole town was awake, going sluggishly about its day-to-day business.

Grocery carts powered by motors buzzed past whilst little old ladies gossiped on the sidewalk. Businessmen and women hurried along to busy themselves with work and the bright little shops by the side of the road were lit up by the sunshine.

I'd lived in Maycomb for as long as I could remember, and probably before that too. It had always been my home and, until now, I had assumed that it would always be my home. I'd thought about exploring foreign lands so many times, but never actually contemplated the terrifying thought of leaving this all behind.

"How is Dill?"

A familiar voice jerked me out of my daydreams. I turned and my heart leapt at what I saw.

Marcus looked awful; his complexion was pale and his dark hair hung limply in his face. His chin was badly bruised and a clumsily bandaged gash ran down his cheek and the side of his neck. He was limping slightly and looked overdrawn and weary.

"He's...on the mend." I winced, "Have you seen a doctor?"

"A doctor?" He looked slightly troubled, "No I...I haven't had time...I've got another case to prepare for, I've gotta be in court for-"

"Marcus! You must see a doctor!" I exclaimed, hands on hips.

"I'm sorry Jean-Louise, my work is just so important to me..." he smiled, "My work and you."

I sighed, "That's very sweet, Marcus, but at the moment it would make it easier if you told me you hated me."

He raised his eyebrows, "Would it make you happy if I did?"

"Honestly?" I ran a hand through my hair, mouth twitching, "No, not really."

A light from within him lit up his face; I think it was hope.

"Then I still have a chance." He kissed me lightly on the cheek. I blinked: he'd taken me completely by surprise. I blushed. He grinned.

"If you would excuse me, Jean Louise, I have a meetin' to attend to. And then I have a doctor to see."

He continued down the road, and I couldn't help but notice that there was a spring in his step where he'd been slumping before. I felt strangely warm inside.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys - good news! I've FINISHED writing The World From My Porch! **

**This means, of course, I'll be updating a loooot quicker :**

**Wow! Penultimate chapter, people!!**

**Thanks to everyone who's supported me and reviewed...love you all :D **

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I wandered the town for a little while, just taking the in scenery like a condemned man walking to his death; as if I were seeing it for the last time. And I wondered, looking around, what if it was the last time I saw it? What if I died that day? What would I regret?

Not deciding between Dill and Marcus. I would definitely regret that. Without me there, they'd kill each other. Or perhaps my death would shock them into reconciliation.

Feeling quite troubled, I headed towards Atticus's house. Dill wouldn't be ready yet for at least another hour, and I could do with getting these morbid musings out of my head.

The door opened before my knuckles had even touched the wood. Obviously Atticus had seen me walking up the path.

He was still a giant to me, tall with wide shoulders and a powerful build. But, somehow, the grey streaks in his hair made him seem frailer. Not old. Just a little worn. In my mind, Atticus could never be old.

"Atticus," I beamed, hugging him tightly. The feel of his strong arms around me never ceased to make everything right.

"Despite your Aunt's efforts, I'm not too good at makin' tea, but I know of some biscuits that she's been hoardin'..."

My face lit up and I immediately rushed to the kitchen cupboard, where we always used to hide our Christmas candy.

We sat out on the porch eating the biscuits and sipping lemonade. Atticus smiled knowingly at me.

"So, why did you decide to drop in?"

I smiled over my glass at him, "Missed ya, s'all."

"Mmhm," he raised his eyebrows, "You wanna talk about somethin'. You were lookin' all dreamy walkin' down the sidewalk. You thinkin' bout leavin'?"

I spluttered. It amazed me how Atticus just knew these things.

"No!" I scoffed. Then I paused; Atticus had been the first Finch to leave Finch Landing, perhaps he was a good person to talk to, "Ok, maybe. I'm so confused, Atticus!"

"'Bout what?"

"'Bout everythin'! What to do, who to see, who to talk to, what to think!"

Atticus smiled at me, "This about Marcus and Dill by any chance?"

I sighed, "Has news spread that far? I was hopin' it would stay low..."

Atticus chuckled, "Not with Stephanie Crawford about. Wouldn't surprise me if half the state knew. You're the most excitin' thing that's happened in years."

"Hm," I buried my face in my hands, "What do I do, Atticus? I don't want to hurt Marcus but I can't stand sayin' goodbye to Dill."

"Sounds like a bit of a dilemma to me," The corner of Atticus's mouth curled up, "What'da'ya want me to say?"

"Tell me who to pick."

"Ok. Pick Dill."

I shook my head, "What about Marcus?"

"Pick Marcus then."

"But what about Dill?"

Atticus grinned at me, "If you're gonna say no to everythin' what do I say?"

"Give me some advice." I pleaded.

"Do what your heart says you should do."

I pulled a face at him.

"That's cheesy."

"It's the truth. You don't wanna end up with someone you don't love, do you?"

"But...I don't know who I love."

Atticus's smug face was getting almost annoying now, "Then you've gotta do some thinkin' 'fore you decide, don't you?"

"Oh Atticus," I pouted at him, "Anyone could'a told me that!" I stood and rubbed my eyes. "Dill leaves for New York at the end of the week; that's three days away. I've gotta decide before then."

Atticus stood and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Do whatever you think is best and don't regret it afterwards. And don't be influenced by what your Aunt says – I'll deal with her."

"Thanks Atticus." I beamed at him and hugged him tightly. I was well aware that this could be the last time I saw him in a long time, so I poured as much unsaid thankfulness into it as I could.

"Now," he pulled back and tapped me on the forehead, "You write to me."

"Oh Atticus," I grinned, "You assume I'm gonna pick Dill?"

"Well, your Aunt's rootin' for Marcus so I thought I might annoy her by givin' the Harris boy my blessin'."

I picked Dill up and he was fast asleep before we'd even reached home. I woke him up briefly so he could stumble inside, but he collapsed on the couch. I decided not to move him, and instead sat across the room from him, watching his chest rise and fall as he slept. He looked peaceful and serene, reminding me greatly of what he had been like as a kid.

His briefcase sat on the coffee table and, out of pure curiosity, I opened it. Inside were lots of paperwork and a small, brown, leather-bound book. I assumed this was his book, and after quickly checking that Dill was still asleep, I flipped open the front cover.

On the first page was a dedication as follows:

This book is dedicated to a little girl who wore pants and dreamed of secret islands through the mist. I hope these stories live up to your memory. From a boy who shares your dreams and will always love you.

I placed the book down and sat back in my seat.

For the first time in two weeks, I knew exactly how I felt.


	12. Chapter 12

**Last chapter, people! **

**I'd just like to say thank you to all the wonderful people who have reviewed...your kind words make me happy : And a big thank you to you (yes, YOU) for sticking with me and persevering to the very last chapter! I'll miss writing this story...but look forward to reading more Dill/Scout stuff from you guys in the future**

**DISCLAIMER: I am not Harper Lee. The only character I own in this story is MARCUS!! huggy**

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I closed the door behind me and fiddled clumsily with the keys, praying that they wouldn't make a noise. I turned and picked up my suitcase, scampering over to the car and placing it beside it. My heart was beating so fast – the thrill of sneaking around early in the morning was slowly being eaten by the guilt that churned in my stomach. I hoped the adrenaline rush would keep up; otherwise I would surely change my mind.

The moon was full and shone pearly-white onto the sidewalk. I rushed round to the back of the house and locked all the doors, making sure each window I passed was shut. I slipped the keys beneath a flowerpot and prayed that nothing would disturb them before tomorrow morning.

I returned the car, eyes darting around and checking the houses along the street. It was imperative that no one woke up, otherwise our plans would be ruins and rumours would be flying round the town for weeks.

Maycomb town. My birthplace and the place I had lived for my whole life.

How strange it was to be leaving.

I'd written letters to Atticus and Aunty and Marcus. I'd posted them; they would receive them tomorrow morning. I hoped they'd all understand. Miss Maudie already knew; I went to visit her yesterday afternoon and by the way she smiled at me – she just knew.

She'd handed me a small pot with a few bulbs in and when I asked her what it was for, she'd patted me on the shoulder and told me it was a leaving gift. I said no more.

"You ok?" Dill whispered to me as he lifted the bags into the boot of the car. I smiled weakly. He didn't understand how strange this was for me – he'd travelled around all of his life. He'd never had the chance to get too attached to one place.

"I'm fine," I murmured back as he closed the boot. "Just a little scared, maybe."

He smiled warmly at me and squeezed my hand, leading me round to the side of the car and opening my door for me. I slid inside, feeling rather numb.

I'd never been further away from my home than Meridian, and that was only once, with both Atticus and Jem. I had Dill this time, but New York was at least a day's drive away, if not longer. We'd decided to leave this early in the morning to miss the traffic, but I knew the real reason I'd suggested it was so that no one would see me. There would be no one to holler after me, asking what I was doing, I wouldn't have to see Marcus looking sad and I wouldn't have Aunty shrieking at me that I was ruining the family or some such nonsense.

Also, it meant that I couldn't back out of it. There was something final about leaving at this time in the morning; I wouldn't be able to stall for time and there wouldn't be a chance for me to get nervous.

Well that plan sure failed I thought. The thought of New York City, although exciting, was positively petrifying, even with Dill by my side. I began to wonder what we would do once we got there. I hadn't thought about that before – did Dill even have an apartment there? What if we ran out of money?

Panic immediately set in.

Well done, Jean-Louise, you didn't think about THAT, did you? Too wrapped up in your little romance that you forgot to think about what you would actually DO in New York! You'll have to get a job. Aunty will be furious – she'll probably drive all the way over there and haul you back!

I heard the distant clunk of Dill's door closing amongst my clamouring thoughts. The click of his seatbelt brought me rushing back to reality.

He exhaled deeply through his nose. He too seemed to have realised the enormity of what we were doing. He rested his hands against the steering wheel and tapped it with his fingers for a few seconds.

"Jeanie?"

I did not reply. For some strange reason, I was rigid. I suddenly understood the other meaning of being petrified.

"Scout?"

Sssscouuuutt. The word rolled off his tongue like warm milk. I took a deep breath, pushed my bangs back from my face and turned to smile at him.

"Yeah Dill?"

He swallowed, "When we get to New York, I got somethin' to ask you."

I blinked stupidly for a few seconds, wondering what on earth he could possibly want to ask, and why wait until we got to New York?

Then I realised. Suffice to say, I would have reacted much differently if Dill hadn't just started the engine. The low rumble split the early morning silence.

This is it. We're leaving Maycomb. 

Sadness dawned upon me and, with a gasp I scrambled in a rather unladylike fashion into the backseat, pressing my fingers against the glass of the back-window.

There was my house, Miss Maudie's house with its beautiful azaleas; I could even see Atticus's house if I looked hard. And there, on the corner, was this huge run-down house. It had plants creeping all over it, the gate was rusty and broken, but I felt a strange sense of warmness flood me looking at it.

The street was empty at first glance, however, as we began to pull away, I noticed someone.

It was a tall, gaunt figure. Skin glinting pasty-white in the moonlight and grey eyes sparkling strangely. He was smiling.

The image blurred with my tears. I raised a farewell hand and smiled back. I didn't know how he knew; don't ask me how he knew. Perhaps, like Miss Maudie and Atticus, he just did.

As the car picked up speed, I grinned and waved goodbye to Boo Radley. 


End file.
